The Road You Tread
by planless
Summary: They met by chance, both in dire need of the other. When their paths keep crossing, a young woman's life is altered, slowly but steadily, so quietly she almost misses it. Because that's the way he works - quiet but effective. That's Haytham Kenway.
1. Sequence I - I

She was in trouble, and she knew it. She had known it the instant the two men had walked through the door of her little apothecary.  
She had been in the midst of scrubbing the counter, using an old rusty knife to get rid of the more persistent stains adorning the darkened wood, when suddenly the door banged open. Starteled, she had looked up to see a huge man walk in, followed by another one of similar stature. They must have been working at the docks for their arms were strong and their hands showed the typical signs of rope burns and all the other hard work the dockworkers had to do, such as carriing heavy luggage.

She could identify these signs because she had tended to such injuries more often than not, her apothecary being located close to the busy docks of Boston.  
The door slammed shut and she squinted her eyes at the first man. She didn't like the look on his face, not at all. His green eyes looking at her from his broad rough face held something to them that made a shiver run down her spine.  
She tensed up and looked at the intruders warily. The taller one, with the green eyes - a redhead, she absently noticed - took a step forward and nodded at her.

"'evening, Ma'am", he almost barked. His companion only nodded, his crudely cut black hair dangling around his thin face. He had pointed features, reminding her of the rats she sometimes saw in the dirty streets.  
Carefully, she inclined her head, her fingers tightening around the hilt of the blunt cleaning knife.

"God evening, Gentlemen." Shit, her voice quivered. Trying to sound as calm as possible, she continued.  
"How can I help you?"  
The redhead shot her a quick glance, then turned towards the many shelves adorning the walls of the small rooms.  
"Cut my finger 'n some goddamn splinter 'is mornin'. Hoped you could give me something t'ease the pain. Can you?"

Exhaling slowly, she tried to calm herself. This didn't sound as bad as she had feared. Forcing a little smile on her lips, though it was somewhat strained, she put the knife down and walked around the counter towards one of the shelves opposite from where the man was standing.  
"Sure", she said, quickly scanning the boards for the thing she was searching for. "This place isn't called an apothecary for nothing."  
Finally, her eyes landed on a huge jar she had placed there only days before and she knew contained ointment that would prevent infection and speed up the healing. It was standing on the topboard, so she raised on her tiptoes and reached up.  
But when her fingers finally touched the cool glass, suddenly two armes wrapped around her waist.

"Feisty lil thing, ain't we?", the redheads voice whispered in her ear. She flinched, a tiny gasp escaping her mouth when she was whirled around.

'I was right about them', was the only thing she could think of when the man pushed her backwards into the counter and pressed up against her.  
Her eyes flashed towards the blackhaired man now leaning against the shopdoor, arms folded over his chest, eying his nails casually. It was only when she realised there was no help to be expected from him that panic began to well up in her.

She tried to shove at the redhead, to push him back, but he only laughed, his muscular frame towering over her.  
Still laughing, he put his hands on her hips and bent down.  
"Let's have a lil fun now, huh, pretty one?"  
He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply.  
Disgust mingeled with fear, and her whole body started trembling when she turned her face away. Her eyes landed upon her cleaning knife. If she could reach it, maybe she could...

Without any further thought, her hand shot out to grab the old piece of metal, but strong fingers clamping down on her wrist cut her off.  
"Gettin' cocky now?" The redhead growled, strengthening his grip. A pained whimper escaped her lips, her eyes widening in a sudden flash of panic.  
"Please", she whispered. "Please don't."

The man inhaled as if to say something when suddenly a loud knock at the door interrupted him.  
The guy leaning against the door shot them a sharp look, then grabbed the handle. It was only when the knock sounded again, followed by someone trying the door, she realised he was effectively blocking it this way.

Gathering all of her courage, she took a deep breath to call for help, but her shout came out muffled through the redhead's hand hastily covering her mouth.  
"Shut it", her assaulter hissed. The sudden lack of air finally triggered her survival instincts. Her free hand came up, flailing, and more by chance than anything she managed to land a decent hit on the man's jaw.  
He huffed loudly, a curse escaping him, before grabbing her other wrist with the hand previously covering her mouth. But before she had any time to scream again, his lips slanted down over hers, causing her to lean backwards in an attempt to escape his rough kiss.

There was a short silence where only her ragged breathing could be heard, then the sound of heavy steps retreating from her door.  
The two men relaxed visibly. Tears sprung to her eyes and started rolling down her cheeks as she silently chanted don't go, don't, please, stay. Don't go, you have to help me, please..

The edge of the oaken counter bit into the small of her back an caused her to wince in pain. She felt the redhead leaning further into her, prying her legs apart with his knee. She closed her eyes and started crying for real when he grabbed her wrists with one hand and used the other one to gather up the fabric of her skirts.

She tried to shake her head, her vision blurry from the tears now staining her face, leaving salty stains on her chilled skin.  
She was ready to give up when a hand snuck beneath her skirts and started stroking her tigh.  
By now her whole body was shaking with disgust and fear, the panic causing her throat to convulse and leaving her short of breath.  
Please please please, she kept repeating in her head. Over and over again. Don't.  
And then, when rough fingers started wandering over her inner tighs, the words changed.  
Please, let it be over quickly.

She didn't know whom she was praying to, since she didn't actually believe in god. Back then, as a little girl she had. But so much had happened since then. Good things. Bad things. Many things. Things leading to her doubting the existence of any divine creature watching over every christian.

The sound of a door slamming open interrupted her train of thougths. Through the tears clouding her vision she couldn't see anything, but suddenly the weight of the redhead's body pressing against hers disappeared.  
Loosing her balance, she staggered forward helplessly, falling to her knees and scraping her knuckles on the roughly crafted floor boards.

Scrubbing at her eyes frantically she looked up, only to see the blackhaired men who had been blocking the door double over in pain after receiving a punch in the stomach by a third man.  
She blinked, her mind still in a haze. Where had he come from?  
The only thing she could do was to stare at his broad back, awestruck, always thinking of the fact he was indeed saving her from her assaulters. He was protecting her.

His smooth voice, dark and full of anger, snapped her out of her reverie.  
"Leave", he growled, taking a step towards the men lying on the floor. She hadn't seen the redhead going down. Her saviour must have acted very fast.  
Her heart leapt in her chest when the two dockworkers hastily scrambled towards their feet and hurried for the door, never once looking back.

When the door fell shut behind them, her saviour turned around to face her. There was a moment of silence in which neither of them moved, eyeing each other, until he finally said something.  
"Are you alright?", he asked in a quiet voice, slowly stepping next to her. He appeared to be limping, she noticed absently.  
"Yes, yes, I'm quite alright", she exclaimed, rising from her ungraceful position on the floor. Relief flooded her mind and caused her mouth to split into a huge grin.  
"Thank you so much for saving me! You truly are my hero of the day, mister. "  
He shot her a sharp look.  
"Are you sure you're feeling okay? I have seen things such as this before, and they never leave their victims unscarred."  
She nodded eagerly, her blond hair dancing around her face. "I'm okay. Nothing's happened. There's no reason to be concerned."  
Clasping her hands together, she returned his searching gaze - and burst into tears.

Staggering backwards until she felt the solid wood of the counter, she buried her face in her hands and started sobbing desperately.  
"It's allright", she whispered between the sobs shaking her frame. "I'm allright, nothing has happened to me. I'm allright."  
She almost missed his quiet sigh, flinching when his hand suddenly touched her ellbow.  
"I'm sorry", he hurried to say, but she only shook her head, smiling at him with quivering lips.  
"N-No need t-to", she hiccuped, then once again buried her face in her hands.

She tensed up when his arms came up to pull her into a soft embrance, but once she noticed his loose grip that gave her every possibility to escape if she wished to do so she relaxed, instead turning to face him and hide her face at his shoulder.  
His grip around her thightened, making her feel sheltered and save.  
This man had saved her only minutes before. Surely she could trust him.

Snuggling deeper into his embrace, she began to organise her thoughts, and as her brain started working properly once again she felt the despair clawing at her heart subside.  
When she felt stable enough, she took a step back, already missing the feeling of his arms around her when they let go of her and dropped back to his sides.

"Thank you", she offered in a quiet voice, wiping the last remaining tears from her eyes and smiling softly at him.  
He inclined his head, his lips quirking upwards ever so slightly.  
"It was my pleasure", he stated. "Now, please tell me, are you Mrs. Bonnie Charles?"

She looked at him, her surprise showing clearly on her features, then nodded slowly.  
"And who are you, if I might ask?"

He indicated a slight bow, lifting his tricorne hat a tiny fraction, and looked at her with a tiny smile playing around his lips. His eyes were dark, almost black, and they held such alertness and sharpness to them it caused her to shiver. This man was dangerous, she realised with sudden unease. He may have saved her, may have comforted her, but he was dangerous nevertheless.

She bit her tounge when his lips parted to answer her, her eyes transfixed by their movements forming a name so rich and powerful she almost flinched.

_"Haytham Kenway, at your Service."_

**_Dear Reader, _**

**_Thank you for reading this very First chapter of what is going to be the most awesome fanfiction ever written!_**

**_Just kidding. _**

**_But, seriously, I've done some pretty extensive research on this and already got most of the plot figured out - so yeah, I expect it to turn out pretty good :)_**

**_And if it doesn't, I will be EXTREMELY annoyed at the plot for not bending to my will. Jk!_**

**_If you have noticed some minor (or major!) mistakes, either grammatical or wrong spelling (maybe even both), don't hang me for it - I am German AND typing this story on my smartphone. LVL ASIAN :(_**

**_Feel free to point out any mistakes, I am grateful for it._**

**_I am also uploading this story on wattpad (my pinname is bonnitie), so feel free to comment on both sides, lol :D_**

**_Happy reading! :)_**

**_Love, bonnitie_**


	2. Sequence I - II

_"Haytham Kenway, at your service."_

She watched him as he straightened up again, silently wondering what to say.

He _appeared_ to be powerful, maybe some British envoy who had been sent to ensure that everyone payed their taxes on a regular base.  
Or maybe he was a nobleman who had come to the colonies in order to gain wealth and whatnot.

Of one thing she was certain - he was entirely British. His smooth accent and the way he expressed himself were signs hard to miss.

Another thing Bonnie knew for sure was that he had money, and lots of it, if his expensive looking clothes were anything to go by.

With a little feeling of envy, she eyed his beautiful navy blue coat. It must have cost him a little fortune. At least more than she could ever hope to earn in her entire life.

Now Bonnie wondered what this aristocrat, wealthy and with political influence, could possibly want from her.  
She had no money, she was no noble woman to be seen with, she -

His smooth voice interrupted her quiet musings.  
"I have been told you are a medic. Is this information correct?"

Stunned, she nodded, still not knowing what to say. Her hands were shifting restlessly until she finally decided on clasping them together. Anxiously, she twirled her thumb.

"I have come here because you were the nearest doctor available. Do you treat gun shots?", he asked in a matter-of-fact voice.

Bonnie silently stared at him, contemplaiting his words, until, finally, it hit her.

"You're wounded!", she gasped, rushing forward. She remembered he actually seemed to be limping and dropped her gaze.

Beneath the layer of his coat, she could make out a dark spot of blood staining the fabric of his trousers. He had been shot into the right tigh, she realized.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry for not noticing! Please, follow me."  
Waving her hands, she ushered him into the small backroom adjoining the apothecary. It was her kitchen, bed- and treatments room, all in one.

The little house she had inherited from her husband was wedged in between two larger ones, one being a bakery and the other a grocery store.  
It only had two rooms on ground level, but since she lived alone it was sufficient.  
There was no second floor. However, the house had a rather large basement which she used to store some of the ingredients she needed to create new medicine.

"Please, have a seat." Pointing her finger in the direction of the bed, the blonde haired woman set about stoking the fire burning in her tiny oven and dipped her hand into the pot of water she always kept on top of it in case she might need it. Lukewarm.

Nodding to herself, she started gathering her instruments along with some towels, a bowl and clean linnen bandages. She placed everything on the freshly swept floor in front of the bed, sending the man sitting atop a quick smile.

She then hurried into the front room, quickly locking the maindoor to hold off any intruders, and gathered some jars of varying form, size and content.

Practically skipping back into the backroom, almost tripping over her own feet while doing so, she lined up the jars next to the utensils she had gathered only minutes before.

When she looked up at her patient, Bonnie noticed he was watching her with a bemused expression on his face.

"Is everything alright?", she asked, suddenly feeling very small.

"One could assume", he started in a slow voice. "That you actually are feeling quite happy about my unfortunate situation."  
Throwing her a questioning look, he raised one eyebrow.

Stuttering, Bonnie flushed a deep shade of crimson before she managed to force out a strangled "Never!"

His quiet cuckle made her relax a little bit, and after some time, she tried a reluctant smile.

Forcing her shaking hands to lay still, she decided to finally ask about his wound.

"You have been shot", she started, tapping her slender index finger onto his right knee.  
"Did the bullet went through?"

Kenway shook his head.  
"As far as I know, it is still stuck in there. Unless it had somehow fallen out without me noticing it, though I highly doubt that."

Getting to her feet once again, Bonnie nodded, crossing over towards where the water had begun to boil over the fire.  
"Yeah, me too."

Pouring a bit of the water into the bowl she had collected before, she suggested, "You might want to take off your coat, because it will prove highly uncomfortable during the operation. Just saying."

He nodded, silently shrugging out of his coat and taking of his hat. She took them from his hands and placed them on a small table on the other end of the room. Secretly, she ran her hands over the heavy blue fabric. She loved the design of the coat, how it seemed to somehow shelter its owner but at the same time gave them an air of authority.

"Also, I need you to remove your trousers."

Keeping her back turned on him, she held her breath for a moment, wondering what he would do. When she heard the rustling of her matress, followed by the sound of a pair of heavy boots meeting the floor, she exhaled slowly.

Careful not to look she returned towards the oven and dipped her finger into the waterbowl. The temperature was just fine.  
Nodding to herself, she set the pot back on the fire in order for the remaining water to keep boiling.  
Then, she waited.

When she heard a faint cough, she picked up the bowl and turned around, careful not to let her eyes stray anywhere they weren't supposed to be.

Kenway was sitting on her bed, only undergarments covering his lower parts, his face void of any emotion.  
His trousers and shoes were stacked aside neatly and she couldn't help but smile.

Taking a deep breath and switching into doctor-mode, she knelt down in front of him, carefully placing the bowl onto the ground next to her.

Eyeing the bloodsmeared skin on his tigh shortly, she picked up a linen cloth and dipped it into the water.

"May I?", she asked, and when he nodded started wiping the blood away, ever so careful as to not hurt him.

For some moments, she worked in silence, cleaning the wound, careful not to cause him any further pain. Taking in the jagged edges of the wound, she picked up a tiny jar and twisted the lid of.

The smell of herbs filled the air around them and she couldn't help but smile. This was what she loved about her job.

Scooping some of the salve onto a little spatula, she began covering the skin surrounding the wound with it.

"What are you doing?"

Bonnie looked up at his question, but he didn't seem anxious or unnerved, merely curious, so she explained it to him.

"This salve serves to numb the area around the wound. You won't feel as much pain as you would without it. It contains a bit if snake venom -"

His hand clamping down on her wrist made her wince in surprise. The steely look he sent her made her shrink back.

"However, the concentration is minimal, only serving to slightly numb your leg for an hour or two, maybe three", she hurried to explain.  
"I can still remove it if you want."

Biting her lower lip she searched his face for any traces of anger, but there were none.  
Instead, he let go of her hand and inclined his head, a silent order for her to resume her work.

Bonnie let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. Trying not to touch the salve because she still needed her fingers to be able to move properly, she started pushing onto the skin surrounding his wounds.

Her brow furrowed in concentration and she bit her lower lip.  
A tiny hiss of pain escaped him.  
"I'm sorry if I am too rough", she quickly mumbled. "But there is no way to do this without causing any pain.

Of course", she added, sending him an amused glance. "It would have been much more convenient not to get shot in the first place."

He kept silent for a moment. Finally, he asked, "You're not asking any questions. Why?"

She shrugged. "It's none of my buisness. I mind peoples' privacy. To be able to tend to their wounds properly I don't need to know why or by whom they got them, only when and how."

"By the way, what are you doing there?", he inquired warily, gesturing towards her still-probing hands.

Brow still furrowed, she explained.  
"I am trying to locate the bullet's position. In order to get it out quickly, I have to know where it is. Does your leg feel numb already?"

She pulled back her hands when he carefully moved.  
"A little", he admitted. She nodded.

"Well then, I think we can start in about five minutes. I am going to apply some more of the salve. Whatever you do, don't touch it, unless you want to be unable to move your fingers for the next few hours."

* * *

"Okay", she mumbled, her fingers poking at the jagged skin. "Do you feel this?"

"Slightly."

"Then you're about to be as ready as you'll ever get. I think I know where the bullet is so I should be able to retrieve it quickly."

Handing him a piece of folded cloth, she added, "You might want to bite onto this. Otherwise you'll be screaming your lungs out."

Taking the makeshift gag from her hands, he asked, "Have you done this often? Treating bullet wounds, I mean."

Shrugging nonchalantly, Bonnie picked up a slender pair of forceps.  
"A few times. Sailors and dockworkers tend to get shot quite often once they are drunk."

She looked up at him and met his dark eyes.  
"Please, hold onto something. I don't want to risk you ripping my head of because you're throwing punches without realising it. Or do you want me to tie you down? Because this sure is going to hurt."

He shook his head, his black ponytail falling over his shoulder.  
"I can manage the pain."

"As you say. Here we go."

Still kneeling between his legs, Bonnie carefully inserted the forceps into his wound. She felt his muscles convulse beneath her hands and shot him an apologizing glance. His eyes were tightly shut, his teeth clamping down onto the cloth she had handed him before.  
His hands were formed into fists and she suddenly had the urge to get this done as quickly as possible before he could lash out at her.

Focusing entirely on her task, she moved the forceps around in search of the bullet.  
A pained moan escaped him and his strained muscles trembled in pain by the time she finally felt the metal of her forceps closing around the bullet.

With a quick twist of her wrist, she pulled it out, wincing when his left foot twitched in pain and hit her hard against the shin.

She heard him exhale slowly while she dropped forceps and bullet to the ground. Truth be told she was surprised he had managed to keep relatively still. The control he held over his body had to be amazing.  
She had seen even the strongest men wail like children at this kind of treatment.

She gently pressed a piece of cloth onto the now once again bleeding wound.  
"That was the worst part", she assured him in a quiet voice while working to stop the blood flow.

He didn't respond, and so she continued her task in silence.

After some minutes Bonnie removed the now soaken cloth, picked up nail and thread and threaded the garn through the eye.

Kenway removed the gag from his mouth when she started sewing up the wound, sighing quietly.

"That was rather painful."

At his dry comment, she looked up only to see his face twisted in pain.  
There were tiny beads of sweat on his forehead which glistened in the dim light.

"Does it still hurt?", she asked in a quiet voice, her hands resting against the warm skin of his tigh.

As an answer, he opened his eyes to shoot her a dry look.  
"It tingles. Now please, go on."

Nodding, she followed his instructions, resuming her previous task.

When the wound was sewn shut, she qickly tied the ends of the thread together.

Laying her tools aside, she picked up a big jar, the same one she had intended to use to help the redhaired dockworker earlier.

"By the way, thank you once again for saving me", she chirped up happily while twisting the lid of. Dipping two fingers into the ointment, she added as an afterthought, "Who knows what they might have done to me."

With slow, practised movements she stared applying the medicament onto his wound and the skin around it.

"Oh, I know." His dark ominous voice sent a shiver down her spine.

"Yes", she whispered, suddenly very sad. Once again, her hands stilled in their task. "So do I."

They sat in silence for a moment, Bonnie's unspoken words hanging heavily in the air, then she resumed her work.

* * *

Fastening the ends of the tightly wrapped bandages in a knot, she nodded. The whole operation had taken up the better part of an hour.

"All done, Mr. Kenway", she announced, smiling. Then she gathered up her instruments, dumped them onto the small table in the corner and left for the front room so he could get dressed.

Still smiling proudly, she wiped her fingers on her now slightly blood stained apron and screwed shut the jar with the healing ointment.

She walked over to one of the boards and shuffled through it's content for a while, finally producing a little tin box filled with the same ointment she had treated his wound with.

Then, she leaned against the counter to wait for him.

When he finally stepped through the door, now once again dressed properly, she flashed him a tiny smile.

"How does your leg feel? Is it still numb?"

He lifted his shoulder nonchalantly, taking a few steps forward. He was limping heavily.

"A bit", he offered dryly, to wich she laughed.

"The effects will wear of in a few hours. Be patient until then and simply wait for it to go away. It won't help if you're running around like a young filly."

He raised one eyebrow, chuckling slightly when he met her mirthful gaze.

"I shall keep it in mind, then. Thank you for your kind treatment, Mrs. Charles. I won't forget about it."

She blushed proudly at the hidden compliment. Taking a few steps towards him, she held up the tin box on an open palm.

"This is the ointment I used on your wound before wrapping the bandage. If you apply it twice a day, morning and evening, change your bandage every time and keep in mind to keep the wound clean, you should be fine in about two weeks. Of course, you'll still have to be careful while moving for about three more weeks. If the wound gets infected, which I really hope it doesn't, please go see a doctor."

Carefully taking the box from her, he nodded, storing it in his pouch.  
"I will keep it in mind. Concerning your payment.."

When he moved to offer her a small bag of coin, she flinched back as if he had suddenly sprouted a pair of horns.

"Oh, no no no!", she exclaimed, holding up her hands in a defensive manner.  
"I refuse to charge you for it. After all, you saved me from those men."

After giving her a long glance, he finally nodded and, still limping, made his way over to the door.

"Very well. I know better than to argue with a woman. Have a nice day, Mrs. Charles, and take care."

Smiling, she gave him a tiny wave when he looked back over his shoulder.

"You too", she offered. He nodded once, then opened the door and stepped out onto the busy streets of Boston.

For a moment, all the buzzing noise filled her apothecary, then the door closed again to shut out the sounds, and with them Haytham Kenway.

_And his beautiful coat_, she thought.

Letting out a small sigh, Bonnie stepped into her backroom and set about cleaning her medical instruments.

* * *

**Dear Reader,**

**thank you for reading this second chapter of my fanfiction. **  
**I have tried until now and will do so over the course of this story, to keep the characters, especially Haytham, as much in character as I can. **  
**Also, don't be too sad this isn't a Haytham-centric fic. There will be lots of him in later chapters ;)**

**If you noticed any mistakes, either grammatical or in spelling, please feel free to point them out. **  
**Your help is very much appreciated, as are the few reviews I have received for the first chapter. **  
**Thank you so much :)**

**Love,**

**bonnitie**


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